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“Nothing.”
I took a second hit from the joint and held the smoke until I couldn’t anymore. I lifted my head and blew it into the air above me, and when I passed the joint back to Saint, my eyes caught on a familiar set of curls across the way.
She was with Zada again, her jeans a little tighter this go ‘round and a T-shirt that looked like it fit. She was still too clean for the dirty streets of Atlanta, but at least she didn’t look like she was about to jump in her minivan and drive her heathens to soccer practice.
8 Everly
ERIK AND I WEREN’T TALKING.It was the first time in our entire lives we went more than two days without speaking a word to each other. It was easy since he was never home. I basically lived alone. The only time I saw him was after school when he took me home and dropped me off like a stranger.
He didn’t say it, but I knew he was pissed because I refused to ride on the back of his new bike, and he wanted to drive it to school and show off.
Whatever.
He should have known better than to ask. With my anxiety levels, I could barely ride in a car with him much less on a two-wheeled death machine.
I had never felt so alone in all my life. My panic attacks were doubling and becoming an issue even at home. I was still a ghost, pacing the floors of our old house and hoping to be seen.
Accepting my truth was hard. I was on my own. Mom and Erik were total strangers to me, and honestly, they moved around me like I was just a wisp of humidity in their lives.
How could my brother be so cruel as to stuff drugs in our father’s urn?
What kind of human being did such a thing?
It was such a terrible offense I almost forgot about the fact that he had drugs on him in the first place. Or that a group of biker boys had broken into our house and destroyed our front door. It was like something on television except it wasn’t. It was now my life. My brother was messing with things he had no business messing with.
Drugs.
Motorcycles.
There was no telling what else, but whatever it was gave him the ability to do things like buy brand new motorcycles and pay a professional to replace our front door. He stood on the porch, scrolling on his new iPhone, while the guys removed and replaced the door. I couldn’t help but feel like everything about his actions, and the way he responded to people was wrong.
We weren’t the same people we were before the move. Moving to Atlanta had been a terrible decision, one that was slowly destroying what was left of our family, but there was nothing I could do. I had no one back in Seattle to run to.
I was stuck.
Thankfully, the house we lived in had hardwood floors, and I was able to collect almost all of Dad’s ashes. His urn was ruined, but I still had all the pieces to it. I hoped one day I could have it fixed, but until then, I sealed the bag his ashes were in and put it into a replacement urn Erik bought.
It was something cheap and embarrassing and didn’t help my anger toward him a bit, but at least I had someplace to keep Dad’s ashes.
That was my life.
A twin brother I couldn’t bring myself to be civil to and a mother who was out doing God knows what. She came home during the week to snag fresh clothes and pay a bill, but other than that, she was absent. If my father were in a grave, he would be rolling over in it. No way would he be okay with the life Erik and I was living.
It wasn’t about the money or the things—it was about the structure and the time. We had none, and I missed that about my life.
On Wednesday, Mom showed up at the house just after dinner time. Dinner for me these days consisted of microwave pizzas and anything easy to cook. There were no more family dinners or conversation. If anyone knew how much I spoke to my father, they would have had me admitted.
I was in front of the sink, cleaning my dinner plate when she came dancing into the kitchen.
“I met someone,” she said.
No asking how I was or if I was okay. No checking on Erik. It was always straight to the guy in her life with her.
“You met someone, like, a guy?”
Her face lit up with a smile that made her look ten years younger.
“Yeah. He’s sweet and so good-looking. We’ve only been seeing each other for two weeks, but I think it’s serious.”
